


Salt, Pepper

by Kyra



Category: New Girl
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Femdom, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flash Fic, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male Friendship, reluctance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra/pseuds/Kyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now kiss," says one of the girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt, Pepper

**Author's Note:**

> THIS GOT OUT OF HAND, read at your own risk. Set during 4x01, The Last Wedding, so assume spoilers. Nick gets talked into the foursome.

The night got weird fast. Schmidt started tailspinning about Cece. Jess went home with the best man. Nick drank a very many lot of drinks and after a while he found the bridesmaids or they found him and Schmidt was there too and Nick said _fine_ , okay, fine, he’s a man, he’s not afraid, he can foursome. Or whatever. As a favor. For Schmidt. Who cares. Guy-girl-girl-guy, that's what Schmidt said, right? That's probably a lot of distance. It seems fair enough.

\--

"Now kiss."

Nick feels his eyes go extra wide while the rest of him stiffens in place. Schmidt is shooting him that sideways look, mouth open, waiting to see what he'll do. Nick tries to smile; instead his body inches down the couch, away from Schmidt's body. 

Schmidt darts a look back at the girls, which makes Nick look too. Their expectant looks are fading into frowns and the one who was about to take off her bra stops, hands still behind her back. Schmidt sees that too and side-eyes Nick again.

 _'Boobs,'_ he mouths without any subtlety. _'Boobs, Nick.'_

Nick gives a weak howler monkey smile and doesn't move.

Schmidt's face falls from one of tentative urgency to exasperation.

"You ninny. We do this all the time," he says and leans forward to grab Nick's face and plant one on him.

Schmidt's hands are firm and unyielding on the sides of Nick's face, damply warm. Cupped over his ears like this, they muffle the noise of the room so all Nick has to focus on is Schmidt's mouth on his mouth. And okay, yes, it's familiar. Mouth and stubble pressing into him with the same irritatingly persistent affection that Schmidt brings to every part of their relationship. Nick endures it for .6 seconds, like usual, and then starts to flail his way free, also like usual. 

But wait. He's not supposed to. Through Schmidt's hands over his ears he hears one of the girls exhale a low mmmmm of approval.

"Oh yeah," says the other one. "Just like that."

Nick's flail has turned into more of a confused wriggle, but it breaks him partially free. He's got one arm worked up between his own head and Schmidt's wrist to lever it off him, but Schmidt has stopped kissing him, even while he's still holding Nick's face. Nick gets confused and freezes like that.

Schmidt's muttering at him very intently, voice low, like when he's talking Nick down from something drunken and very dumb, because he knows what's best for him. 

"Come on, Nick, play along," he's saying. "We're supposed to kiss now-- you too. Just screw up your eyes and be a hero. Have you seen these girls, man? I need this." There's a tiny pause between the last two sentences but Nick's brain is too addled to parse it all. Schmidt takes advantage of his confusion to lean in and push his lips up against Nick's again. Less forcefully this time and that’s also befuddling.

Schmidt’s kind of a smooth motherfucker; without breaking contact, he somehow manages to also slide a hand up the arm Nick was prying himself free with. His hand wraps around Nick’s wrist and he eases it down to his own knee and covers it with his hand to keep it there.

Nick’s head is spinning. He can feel the fabric of Schmidt’s dress pants under his palm, Schmidt’s tongue flicking against his lower lip and he opens his mouth without thinking. Schmidt’s tongue brushes his own and even Schmidt freezes for a second, like he wasn’t expecting that.

It’s the hesitation that makes Nick respond like he generally does when he’s able to poke a hole in Schmidt’s logic or snatch the last fortune cookie away from him. He’d shout a ‘ha’ but his mouth is otherwise engaged right now. Instead the rush of one-upmanship means he surges forward, like he can wrest control of the moment back.

His tongue sweeps Schmidt’s mouth and Schmidt’s hand tightens over his as Nick’s kiss leans him back and wait, why is he doing this again?

“Yesss. Suck his face,” says a girl’s voice and right, that’s why. Remembering where he is makes Nick stop and — oh, hey. In ten years, this look right here is something he’s never quite seen on Schmidt’s face. Like. Agog. (Winston just taught him that word.) Or some other writerly thing. 

Their faces are an inch apart and Schmidt’s giving him the strangest once-over: eyes on Nick’s eyes, then his mouth, then back.

“Nick,” he says, and pushes _up_ and forward, catching Nick off-guard, mouth open against his, using that and his hands to push Nick back and down. He smells like cologne and stupid hair products and guy deodorant and his stubble is scraping against Nick’s and Nick is drunk drunk drunk he has to be because everything’s like it’s happening in a dream, hazy and fast.

Schmidt rubbing against him and _two_ pairs of boobs when the girls take off their bras and the next thing he knows he’s sitting on the couch with a mostly naked girl in his lap, nipping her way up his neck.

The other girl has pulled Schmidt up and off the couch by his tie and taken it off him with expert fingers, talking low to him the whole time, and whatever she’s saying must be good because Schmidt’s grinning and then the grin is fading and she’s working her way down his buttons, still talking while Schmidt’s eyes get big and he swallows hard.

Nick doesn’t see what happens next because he’s got a girl’s tongue in his mouth and his hands on her breasts and _this_ is a little more his speed, except also not because this is the first time since— she’s not— 

“How do you feel,” she says, pulling back and moving up to nip at his ear. “About getting your dick sucked?” Nick's brain pulls back from the abyss and shorts out nicely.

“Good,” he manages. “I feel good about it.”

“Good,” she purrs, untucking his shirt and loosening his tie. “Because I really want to see this.” 

Before his brain can even fully parse that, she slides off him and up to sit on the back of the couch, one leg on either side of his shoulders.

Schmidt’s on the floor, shirt open, looking dazed. He’s kneeling back on his heels, legs spread, dick bulging inside his pants. The girl standing beside him has her hand in his hair, and she tugs a little.

“You like that, huh?” and Schmidt nods fast like he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, mouth still dropped open a bit. She uses the hand in his hair to turn his head toward Nick.

“Do you want to suck his cock?” she says, like he’s a kindergarten kid and she’s prompting him into the right answer. 

Schmidt’s eyes flicker closed, then open again, catching Nick’s for just a split second. Then he’s looking away, down at the floor beside him and Nick can see him swallow as he nods, just a little. 

There’s a rushing in Nick’s ears. His hands are buzzing and his heart is in his throat and he needs to _stop this right now_ but he’s in that place right after panic where he can’t move, where the whole world feels like it’s spinning extra fast around him.

“Can’t hear you,” blonde bridesmaid says brightly and crouches down beside Schmidt. She’s only wearing underwear and her fancy lady shoes and Schmidt’s eyes stray to her boobs. Nick’s too.

“Say it,” she’s telling Schmidt. “Say you want to.”

Schmidt tears his eyes away from her chest, still not looking at Nick.

“I want to,” he mutters to the air near Nick’s knee. There’s an expectant pause. He looks back over at her, then up behind Nick, where brown-haired bridesmaid is sitting. “I want to, okay?” he says louder and lifts his chin. “I want to suck his cock.”

“Good boy,” says blonde bridesmaid, standing, and Nick see the shiver go through Schmidt, his shoulders loosening.

So this is Nick’s real cue to go. He needs to stand up and say something, anything, and find the nearest door as fast as he can. 

Except he can’t because the girl behind him has leaned down over his shoulder and undone his fly with superhuman speed, some kind of crazy sex power. Her boob is pressing into his neck and her warm hand wraps around his dick and Nick _groans_ , head dropping back.

“There you go,” she says, pulling his cock free and when Nick lifts his head again, Schmidt’s _staring_. And was his face this close to Nick’s crotch before? 

“Well, there you go,” says Nick, frowning. “Happy now?” Apparently this _is_ something best friends do. 

Schmidt’s gaze flicks up and it’s the first time they’ve made eye contact since anyone’s dick got involved. 

Nick’s breath stops coming; he can feel it. He’s probably having an actual stroke and no one’s going to notice or call 911 and he’s going to die here like this. Surrounded by naked ladies, Schmidt on the floor between his knees.

“It’s not gonna suck itself,” says one of the girls and Schmidt drops his eyes back to Nick’s cock, which feels very, very exposed compared to the rest of him. It’s like Schmidt’s staring it down, sizing it up. The side of his mouth tilts up and he gives a sideways jerk of his head, like he’s having some kind of private conversation. Before Nick can react, Schmidt’s kneeling up between his legs, arms hooked over Nick’s thighs. Nick’s heart is pounding and he’s never felt so frozen in place in his life. 

His face is so close, Nick can feel Schmidt’s breath on his cock and it jumps a little in response. Schmidt swallows hard and slides his mouth over Nick.

The sound Nick makes is so high and strangled he’d be mortified if he had the brain cells to spare. His hips buck upward of their own accord and Schmidt shifts his elbows forward, holding Nick in place with his weight.

That alone makes this crazy different from any blow job he’s had, feeling legitimately held still. Also the fact that it’s Schmidt. _Schmidt._ Taking Nick in his mouth. 

Thinking that is not helping him get himself get under control like it should. He's so hard and flustered and he can’t close his eyes, can't stop watching what Schmidt’s mouth is doing to him. 

Schmidt’s tentative but focused, covering the head of Nick’s cock, with his wet, wet mouth. He wraps a hand around the base to hold it in place as he slides down it.

“Mmm, you like that, huh?” says the girl behind Nick and he almost jumps, remembering she’s there.

“Yeah, yes, yeah,” he manages, hands fisting at the edge of the couch.

“Answer her,” says the other girl, nudging Schmidt and he looks up without taking his mouth off Nick, his eyes big.

“Mmmhmm,” he says, muffled and she slides a hand into his hair.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” she asks, petting him as he moves up and back down Nick’s dick.

“Mmm-mmm,” he says, shaking his head, and the girl moans like that’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard.

Schmidt’s getting a little more confident now. He picks up speed and closes his eyes, starting to do something swirly with his tongue and his head at the same time. Nick can almost feel his eyes rolling.

“It’s just a blow job, Schmidt,” he grits out. “You don’t have to get all fancy."

Schmidt opens his eyes and glowers up at Nick, mumbling something unintelligible and indignant sounding around Nick’s cock. It’s… not a method he’d ever thought of to shut Schmidt up, but it’s definitely got some appeal.

“Take his shirt off,” one of the girls is saying and then Nick’s arms are being pulled behind him as his sleeves are tugged down and off him, tie pulled with it, and he’s dimly aware of a pause in Schmidt’s rhythm as the same thing is done to him.

Schmidt’s free hand settles on Nick’s hipbone, right where it meets what Schmidt calls Nick's chub factor.

“God, that’s so hot,” the bridesmaid behind Nick sighs. He is more than a little terrified of these girls. She leans into him again, her hair tickling the bare skin of his shoulder. “Do you know how hot it is to watch this?” she asks him. “Why is it that guys are allowed to talk about girl-on-girl action, but we’re not supposed to be into this?” She sure is asking a lot of questions of a guy who probably couldn’t articulate his own name right now. “Have you ever thought about doing this before?”

“No,” Nick croaks out. Schmidt keeps his head down and moving and doesn't say anything.

“We thought maybe you were together,” says the girl crouching beside Schmidt. “Before you hit on us."

“People always think that,” Schmidt mumbles on the upstroke, his lips brushing across the tip of Nick's cock.

“It’s your body language together,” the girl says confidently. Nick covers his face with a hand, grimacing.

“No, no, no—“ he says and starts to move like he’s going to stand up, but she puts her hand on top of Schmidt’s on his hip and pushes him back down.

“Bet you’ve known each other a long time, huh?” says the girl behind him. Nick nods tightly.

“Twelve years,” Schmidt lifts his head off Nick’s cock just long enough to say. Fuck. Twelve years of Schmidt all up in his face, at his side. Always trying to act like the braver one. Just like now.

Even with whiskey dick, even despite himself, Nick’s getting close. He keeps meaning to stop this but instead his hands are on his knees, the insides of his arms pressed up against the outsides of Schmidt’s, his thumbs on the bare skin of Schmidt’s shoulders.

Distantly he can hear one of the girls talking again to Schmidt, telling him how pretty his mouth is, telling him it looks good around Nick’s cock, telling him he should eat them out after this, and then fuck his friend.

Nick can’t— He can’t— 

“Schmidt, Schmidty, I’m—“ he gasps and Schmidt pulls his mouth off Nick’s cock just in time, hand still pumping. Nick lets out a strangled yell and comes in a rush of heat.

His head has dropped back onto the couch and he gasps at the ceiling for a little while, brain fuzzed out and perfectly white, his arms and legs glowing from the inside out.

When he lifts his head, Schmidt’s still nestled between his legs, eyes wide, like he’s frozen, or everything else in the world is.

He’s stuck, still breathing hard, eyes locked on Schmidt’s for two, three long beats of his pulse.

And then one of the girls hands him a wad of tissues and the moment breaks. He takes them just as Schmidt looks away and clears his throat.

“And that is how it’s _done_ ,” he says in his frat boy tone, but muttered like he’s not quite sure about the choice.

Nick wipes himself off quickly and doesn’t look at anyone. He keeps his eyes down while the girls help Schmidt stand up and walk him over to the bed, pushing him down and crawling over him; just like he wanted. Eyes down while he finds his shirt and shrugs it on. Eyes down while he mutters something vague to the room at large about the bathroom. And when he makes it out the front door instead. Not sure what direction he’s going or what just happened or when he’s going to make it home or pretty much anything at all anymore.


End file.
